Who Needs Nyx
by MermaidMetanoia
Summary: Remy, unofficial profiler for the FBI and glorified assistant to Agent Marsden, has just been assigned her first case..off the books, of course. A string of murders has popped up in small Washington towns, and evidence leads her straight to La Push. Will she find her suspect or a temperamental wolf? One thing we do learn is that Remy belongs to no one and she WILL find this killer.
1. Ride

_**Prologue**_

* * *

 **Ride**

" _I'd die for you," that's easy to say_

 _We have a list of people we would take_

 _A bullet for them, a bullet for you_

 _A bullet for everybody in this room_

 _But I don't see many bullets coming through_

* * *

My horrible habit of chewing on pens is in full force as my professor proceeds with his lecture.

Professor Marsden turns on the projector and shuts off the lights. "This is a recorded statement of an event that happened two years ago. An 81-year-old woman was found raped with 14 stab wounds in a ditch off of a Costco parking lot in Columbus. The suspect was a minor, a 15-year-old boy who was identified through some hair strands on the woman's body."

The professor presses a button and the screen lights up, a static noise filling the room as the camera is shuffled into place. I watch a young boy sit with his arms folded and a slight smirk on his face that makes him look much older than 15.

I lower my pen to my desk as I watch him look at the camera then the person behind it who's interrogating him.

 _"State your name for the camera."_

 _"Jordan Tumlin."_

" _Where were you on the evening of February 12, at approximately 3-10pm?"_

" _At home maybe... I don't know."_

The smirk on his face is what convinces me he's lying, that he knows exactly what happened and what he was doing. I think everyone can tell he's guilty, but there's so many procedures and laws on minors that we can't convict someone on facial expressions alone.

" _You don't know? Think about it carefully, Jordan,"_ the interviewer says calmly and gently.

 _"Actually... hmmm, the 12th, you said?"_

The interviewer must nod in assent, because the boy, Jordan, continues.

 _"I think ma might've sent me to run some errands."_

 _"Did you do any grocery shopping?"_

 _"Hm. Might've._ " The boy has a secret smile, and it's glaringly obvious he's playing with them. It's like he doesn't care if he gets caught or not.

The detective changes her course. _"Do you know why I'm asking you these questions?"_

The boy spreads his arms out. _"No clue. Thought it was a social call, babe."_ His following chuckle at his own joke grates on my ears.

 _"No, not quite a social call. A woman was found raped and stabbed in a Costco parking lot on Tuesday, the 12th."_

 _"Sounds bad. My thoughts go to her family in this time of grief,_ " Jordan says insincerely, fake sympathy in his voice.

 _"Yes, her family is by her bedside,_ " the detective says in a neutral tone.

Jordan flinches, then tries to mask his reaction and school his features. _"Bedside? I thought you said she was stabbed."_

I hear shuffling of papers off camera, as do the rest of my classmates, and we watch the screen with intrigue.

" _Yes, that's correct. She was stabbed, and is expected to make a full recove-"_

The detective is cut off as the boy starts laughing almost hysterically. _"No. No, no, no, no."_

 _"Pardon? What's 'no'?"_

Jordan's face twists. " _No. You're wrong. No, the bitch was dead."_

 _Got him,_ I think.

 _"Are you saying the woman was dead when you left her in that ditch?"_

 _"I'm saying there is absolutely no possible way she's alive. Y'all are just fucking with me."_

 _"She's alive and expected to make a full recovery."_

A snort escapes the boy, and he shakes his head with a crazed look in his eyes.

" _No. Nope. She was dead,"_ he shakes his head.

 _"Mr. Tumlin, are you admitting to the rape and stabbing of Lynn Kane?"_

The detective slides a paper across to him, and the boy doesn't even look at it.

 _"I don't know who the fuck she is, she's dead._ She's dead!" He shouts, slamming his cuffed hands on the metal table, jostling the camera a bit.

Professor Marsden pauses the video, and turns to us. "The rest of the clip is just the detective and the suspect going in circles for a bit, until they eventually get a full confession out of him. He was placed in juvie, and will go through another trial when he turns 18."

Professor Marsden turns to face the class, his eyes roving over us. He makes eyes contact with me for a prolonged moment before continuing.

"Now, you have to be especially careful when dealing with minors, and careful with the way you interrogate them. They have more laws in place to protect them and their rights. Now, the detective did everything right, she was calm and collected, even when he had outbursts, and she took his schizophrenia into account while speaking to him. She had read him his miranda rights when she took him in, she let him know everything that was going on, and eventually exactly why he was there. But there is one thing she didn't do here that almost cost the whole case. Can anyone tell me what that is?"

I look around, my teeth nibbling on the end of my pen again.

One frat-looking guy has raised his hand, not even waiting for Marsden to call on him before speaking. Also, we're in Seattle... why is he wearing a tank top? To show off those noodles for arms?

"She didn't state exactly what he was suspected of?" he asks.

I roll my eyes to myself, then look to Professor Marsden to see him staring at me with a small smile before looking back to noodle guy. "Not quite, Dean. She didn't have to state the specifics of the crime, all she had to say when she took him into custody was that he was a suspect, and they needed to interview him for the investigation. Which she did do correctly. Anybody else have any ideas?"

I look around, bored, to see nobody with their hands up and studiously avoiding the professor's eyes.

"C'mon, nobody has any ideas?"

I can metaphorically hear the crickets in the room. "Fine, I guess I'll start calling on people then."

I sigh, then take one for the team and raise my hand.

Professor Marsden looks at me in pleasant surprise, since I'm the last person to ever raise my hand or volunteer any information at all. "Yes, Miss Remy?"

"He didn't have a lawyer or legal guardian present during the interrogation, which breaks procedure because of his age. He may not have been given the opportunity to have one, or he wasn't informed, but a legal guardian must be present in a specific interrogation room unless there's consent otherwise."

Marsden smiles widely at me. "That is correct, Remy. The detective did read him his miranda rights, but did not call his legal guardians or anybody that can consent to the interview taking place. Despite the full confession they later obtained, this mistake almost cost them the whole case."

"I'll let you guys out early today, but you do have homework. I'd like you to bring in a copy of the interrogation dialogue- which is posted on the website- and then I want you to write out the way each of you would have asked questions, what you would've done or said differently. His responses are all the same though, guys! Have a goo-"

I'm out the door before I can hear the rest.

* * *

I go to the rest of my classes at Peninsula, before finally heading to back to Marsden's class for part of my internship.

I walk through the door to find Marsden absorbed in his laptop screen, putting his hand up in a weak imitation of a greeting.

"Sup?"

He looks up at _that._

 _"_ Remy, why is it that you can talk to me- a professor, basically an authority figure, using casual terms like 'sup', but you can't have a normal conversation with one of your peers or basically... _anyone?_ "

"Mars, you don't count as a real professor in my book. And I'm working on my social skills, okay?"

He looks absolutely affronted. "A _real_ professor?"

I sigh and roll my eyes. "Okay, technically you're a professor, but you work for the _FBI!_ I mean, c'mon!"

Marsden has a thoughtful look on his face. "Do you realize that that should make you less comfortable with me?"

I wave a hand to shoo the idea away and begin pulling out my laptop.

I have been helping Marsden out with his current cases, doing research and statistics, and we've been calling it an 'internship'.

It's really me getting experience and being his unpaid slave.

I see out of the corner of my eye that Marsden is closing his computer, causing me to focus my full attention on him.

"Uhh-"

"Remy, I wanted to talk to you about something," his tone is serious, which isn't unusual when he's talking business.

"I've been working on a case, one that you haven't been informed of yet because I wasn't sure if you would legally be allowed to do what I want you to do."

I can feel a smile creeping on my face. "Illegal, you say? Do tell."

Marsden rolls his eyes, but slides a folder onto my desk. "There's a case I was just assigned."

I skim through the papers, raising my eyebrows. "This is a serial murder case...you don't do these."

Marsden is basically good at everything, and his main field is homicide, but he avoids serial murders like the plague if he can help it.

"I do when one of the murders takes place in my hometown."

I look up at him.

Marsden is young, in his late 20's or early 30s, and he was a good agent and a good teacher, but couldn't decide between either so he chose to divide his time between Peninsula Community College and the FBI. He had a darker skin tone from sun, not genes, and dark blue eyes.

I took my first class with him a few years ago, and he was looking for some help with cases. I was looking for experience to see if this was the field I wanted to enter. After a few years, I knew.

I still work with him on cases, and he's still the one person I'm most comfortable with.

"I once asked you where you were from and you said 'everywhere' so..."

"I don't really like to admit where I'm from . It's a tiny town surrounded by other tiny towns. But anyways, we're looking at a serial killer here. The victims seem to be at random, but based on this signature the UNSUB is leaving, they're connected somehow. That's where you come in. You're the best profiler I've seen in all my years at the agency, and you're not even an agent."

A warm feeling spreads through me at his words, but I show no outward reaction.

 _This is what I'm meant to do._

"And how is this illegal exactly?"

Marsden smiles uncertainly, like he's still not sure he should be doing this. "You're coming with me as a... partner of sorts. We have a lead down in the Forks area. We need to leave as soon as you're ready."


	2. Needles

**_Chapter 1_**

* * *

 **Needles**

 _Why would I live life_

 _worried, worried all the time?_

 _It shouldn't be a surprise_

 _it's easy, easy to be terrified_

 _Oh believe me, I've tried everything_

 _I'm still sittin' on needles and pins_

 _Every breath I take is a second that I cannot replace_

 _And when I feel like this I wish_

 _I wish I could s_ _hut it off_

* * *

 _1 week later_

I knock on the door of the quaint yellow house that holds more charm than my shitty trailer ever did. Marsden is beside me, and we finally have a way to prevent at least one murder.

The door opens and an extremely large man opens the door with a neutral expression that tightens infinitesimally when he sees us.

"Can I help you?" he asks, his voice just as deep as one would expect it to be given his size and stature.

I keep my eyes on the man as Marsden pulls out his badge, showing it. "I'm Agent Marsden, this is Agent Nyx. We're looking for a woman named Emily Young. Is she here?"

I can see the wall that goes behind his eyes at these words, and I get it. Anytime law enforcement so much as stepped on our grounds when I was younger, trailer doors would slam shut. Some even moving.

"What's this about?" His tone is sharp now, and I can practically feel the tension emnating from his body. I notice he doesn't answer Mars's question.

"Sir, I'm afraid you aren't privy to that information at the moment. May we speak with her?" Mars responds, his voice professional, his tone gentle and calm.

"Sam! Who's at the door?" A woman comes into view, and Mars and I both straighten.

She's rubbing her hands with a towel and I catch a faint whiff of dish soap. She must've been doing dishes.

I finally catch a look at her face and vaguely notice the three scars that run along the left side of her face. Hm.

She has a pleasant smile that fades slightly when she notices the man's posture. She looks at him with furrowed brows before looking at us, probably taking note of our polite but serious expressions.

"Are you Emily Young?" I speak for the first time, and her eyes come to me.

"Yes. Can I help you with something?" She asks with a confused smile.

"Ma'm, is there somewhere where we can talk privately for a moment?"

"I'm sorry, who are you? What's this about, Sam?" She looks to the man, but he's staring at us with a hard expression.

"Oh yes," Mars clears his throat. "My apologies, miss. We're with the FBI investigating a few homicides, and we need to speak with you immediately."

I can't help but roll my eyes at Mars's old-man words at the same time I begin to notice a few voices from inside. I'm just now remembering it's dinner time.

"Is Emily in trouble?" I'm again surprised by the deep tenor of this Sam guy's voice.

"Not exactly, but she is in danger," I quip without thinking, earning an elbow to the ribs from Mars and a quiet hiss of my name.

Mars puts on his polite smile, gesturing inside. "Can we talk about this inside?"

I notice Emily's hands shaking a bit as Sam leads us through the hallway, the voices getting louder. I gently place my hand on her arm, causing her to startle and look at me. "It'll be okay."

She doesn't have a chance to respond before Sam leads us through the kitchen, where a table of four men sit. Or are they boys? I can't tell. Some of them have boyish faces with manly, mature bodies, but they're all basically Sam's clones.

"Stay here. Don't break anything. Seth, I mean you. We'll be in the living room," Sam says sternly, gesturing towards what I assume is the living room.

Mars and I make eye contact with each of the men sitting down, memorizing their faces. I stop at the last one, as he's staring at me with a strange expression. I stare at him a moment longer than the others. His eyes are wide, his lips parted. For some reason, I can differentiate him better than the others, his jawline more pronounced, his eyes brighter. He stands out to me, but not in a criminal way... more like in a way I shouldn't be feeling with anyone right now.

Mars walks ahead of me, since I'm too busy making googly eyes with this guy. He has to call my name to get my attention, and I immediately follow.

Before I can fully leave the room, I turn back around to find all of their eyes alternating between looking at the guy I was staring at and looking at me.

"Don't eavesdrop," I whisper to them, pointing a finger at them. I'm just getting that vibe from them as I did my younger brother. He'd always listen in on my conversations with basically everybody.

No matter how much I want to, I don't glance back.

* * *

Emily has offered us something to drink multiple times by the time she finally takes a seat on the couch next to Sam, both of them across from me and Mars.

"What's this about?" Sam gets straight to the point.

"If I may ask, what is your relation to Miss Young?" Mars asks Sam.

Sam opens his mouth, but I beat him to it. "Husband."

Everyone looks at me, while Mars sighs. He's used to me noticing things before him.

"Wedding rings," I shrug, causing all of their eyes to go to their fingers.

"Anyways..." Mars clears his throat. "Before I tell you this, I need you to keep this between us for now."

Sam and Emily look at each other before nodding.

"Way to sound ominous," I whisper to Mars.

Emily cracks a smile at that, but Mars just shakes his head, and I know I'll be getting a little talk later.

"You were required to go to jury duty about 6 months ago, correct?" Mars asks.

Sam lets out an incredulous chuckle. "You're joking right? This is about _jury duty?_ She went!"

"Does he look like the kind of guy who jokes around?" I ask, not able to contain my smirk.

"If you'd let me finish, please." Mars's voice is slightly strained, and I decide to maybe reign in my brain to mouth filter.

"Answer the question, please, Miss Young."

Emily twists her ring around her finger nervously and nods vigorously. "Yes, Sam's right. I went."

"Do you remember the case?" I question her gently, trying to ease her nerves.

Emily looks to the ceiling, thinking. "Yes, vaguely. A man was tried for the murder of his parents, I believe."

Mars nods, a small smile on his face. "Yes, that's correct. There have been 6 murders in the past month, and we believe they're all related to the defendant."

"But..." Emily swallows. "He was convicted. He's in jail, how is he killing people?"

"Actually, it was decided he was to face the death penalty, as they believed him responsible for the rape of his 11-year-old sister as well. He died a month and a half ago," I add.

Emily gasps, her hand flying up to her mouth. "Oh, my god."

Sam places an arm around Emily and whispers something in her ear before looking at us. "I'm confused. If he's dead, how is he related to the murders?"

Mars and I look at each other for a prolonged moment.

"The victims were..." I trail off, looking at Mars helplessly. I wasn't used to this. I wasn't used to dealing with delivering bad news to almost-crying women.

"We linked the murders together, after some digging. The victims were the jurors on the stand that day. We have reason to believe someone is exacting revenge against the jurors for convicting James Kendrick. So far, six of the 10 jurors on the stand have been murdered. You, Miss Young, are one of the four still alive."

* * *

 **A/N:** _First official chapter for my new story! It's a bit darker than my other ones, but oh well._

 _More drama to come... and Paul, since we only see a glimpse of him. As did Remy._

 _I hope this uploads, bc I'm currently in Mexico on vacation._

 _Let me know what you think!_

 _-M_


	3. Falling Short

**_Chapter 2_**

* * *

 **Falling Short**

 _Because you took something away from yourself_

 _Come back to this route and take your heart to higher self_

 _And it's times like these_

 _And it's days like these_

 _Cause you could say this is not too far to carry this_

* * *

After a while of comforting Emily, Sam turns to us, eyes sharp and accusing. I almost want to say, 'don't shoot the messenger', but I don't want another elbow to the gut and my ribs are already bruised enough from Mars.

"Do you know who's doing this?"

I purposely don't look at Mars, and he doesn't look at me when he speaks. "We can't disclose that at the mome-"

"Bullshit!" Sam explodes, abruptly standing up and bumping into the coffee table, rattling the vase sitting on top. Mars and I stand up, too, about to calm him down when the group from before barges into the room.

"Sam, what's going on?" One asks, and I look to see that it's the guy from before, the one I couldn't help but notice was different from the others, but not in a bad way. He's not even looking at Sam when he speaks, he's staring at _me._ With this...with this indescribable look on his face. There's more feeling in it than I've ever received from anybody in my life.

I look to Sam to see him open his mouth, but I stop him.

"We can't talk about this, we can't share this. It's need to know, only." When I see that doesn't persuade him, I add gently, "For Emily's safety."

He stares at me for a moment, before looking in their direction but not directly at them, a frustrated, helpless look on his face. "Out."

"But-"

"Get out!" He barks at them, a new tone to his voice. There's something there I can't place, but it makes even _me,_ queen of disobedience, want to follow.

They hesitate, but eventually leave, the one with the heavy, intense stare trailing last and leaving me with a jumping heart.

I walk closer to Sam, my tone gentle; the one I use only when I absolutely have to, when I have to portray the illusion that I can empathize with other people. "Sam, you need to calm down so we can talk about this. We can tell you more, but not if you get angry or violent."

"Sam," Emily starts, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. He immediately turns toward her, his full attention on her and only her. We're practically invisible in their eyes, I'm sure. "Sam," she repeats, placing a hand on his cheek. He closes his eyes and leans into it, grabbing it with both of his hands and holding it there. It automatically soothed and calmed him.

She says something, too quiet for anyone but Sam to hear, but it makes his shoulders relax, and relief fills me that the anger is gone from the room.

He sits down with Emily tucked under his arm, her shaking still visible. Hell, I'd probably be like that too if I found out I was on a serial murderer's kill list.

"What can we know? How can I..." he trails off.

"We can't say much, to be honest," I say bluntly. "I have a feeling- a feeling I know to be accurate- that if we tell you anything about this guy, you will go after him."

Emily suddenly makes a little scoffing noise, and we all look at her. "What? It's true."

"Emily..." Sam starts, using a tone that one would use with their child.

"Sam..." Emily says in the same tone, and I can't help but laugh.

"I know you and the pa-guys can protect me, but please let them deal with it," she gestures to us. "It has nothing to do with that other stuff. _This is real life."_

There are so many faults in that sentence that I want to-no, need to question, but I see Marsden giving me a look so I hold back.

But, I take note of them for later.

" _Pa-guys..."_

 _"Nothing to do with that other stuff..."_

 _"This is real life..."_

Officially filed in the membrane.

Sam turns away from his wife, the loving look he reserved only for her fading from his eyes. "What _can_ we know? What do we be on the lookout for? What about the other jurors?"

"Slow down," Mars holds up his hands. "You _can_ know that we are sure of the suspect's identity, he's just dodging us, and he's good at it. He isn't using credit cards, he's only using disposables, that's _if_ he's even calling anyone. He left his car so we have no plates. He's completely off the grid and untraceable. Although, we only suspected it was him recently, so we haven't had much time to find him. We've been going to the other juror's and notifying them."

"How is this person related to the guy- James?" Sam asks, leaning forward, his eyes intense on us.

I feel my eyebrows furrow. Can we even tell them this? I don't even know.

"Familial connection," Mars responds, then hands me a folder and makes eyes contact.

I slide a picture over to Emily. "This is the guy we're looking for. You need to be on the lookout for him. We are assigned to your personal case, Emily. Basically, we're assigned to _you._ Think of us as your La Push bodyguards. We're staying here until the threat is gone, so you come to us for anything. But look at everyone around you when you go out, and let us know if one of those faces you see is his," I tap the picture that she seems entranced with. "Be careful, be smart, and be safe."

"He testified," she whispers.

I look to Mars only to see a blank expression, but I know by his eyes he's confused.

She looks up at us. "He testified on the stand, you know that, right? He was there."

Oh. Fuck.

* * *

Emily and Sam walk us out of the living room. Emily can't seem to stop clutching Sam, and Sam can't seem to stop clutching Emily.

I get it.

...But then again I don't.

When we walk into the kitchen, the group of guys is standing there, looking anxious as hell.

"Oh, Agent Mars, Agent Nyx, these are my brothers of sorts, Jacob, Embry, Seth, and Paul. If you're around a lot, you'll be seeing them too," Sam says, pointing each one out.

 _Paul._

So that's his name.

I look at him to see him looking at me as well.

"Agent?" He asks in a deep voice, his eyebrows furrowed as he looks to Sam for an explanation.

"I'll te-" Sam starts to explain, but I cut him off.

" _Sam_. Need. To. Know," I emphasize, reminding him.

Sam looks torn, before looking at the guys and seeming to communicate with just their eyes. "It's private. That's all I'm saying on the matter."

Mars looks at his watch, then pulls out a card from his pocket. "We're your liaisons. We're only down a few roads at the motel. We'll be here during the day parked outside, and most nights depending on the information we get daily. Emily, you call either one of us if you need anything or see anything. Please, please don't hesitate. Even if it's a shadow or a creepy, paranormal sound you hear in your house. _Call._ We'll be here as often as possible. Remember what Remy said. Be careful, be smart, and be safe."

Emily takes the card, still looking a bit shocked, and nods.

"You're staying?" I hear a deep voice, and have to look around the room because I have a feeling that voice could've belonged to any of these guys. I instinctively land on Paul and know it was him. I'm confused though, that he's addressing _me_. And I'm also confused as to why he's still staring at me with those damn eyes that make me feel things (for once) I shouldn't.

"I don't know what that question means," I respond in a bland voice, despite my weird internal reaction to this man.

"In La Push," Paul clarifies. "You're staying in La Push?"

I look at Mars in confusion, but he shrugs too. Why is he asking?

"I guess so, for a bit. Until I'm no longer needed here."

* * *

Little did I know, Sam lied. It wasn't a private matter, and he would have no choice but to let them in on the situation.

* * *

 **A/N:** _You guys are the best. I love your responses, esp to this story._

 _THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU THANKYOU!_

 _I love you guys._

 _I'm writing from vacay in Mexico with a horrible sunburn bc I'm pale as shit and no sunscreen is never enough for me._

 _But whatevs, I had to post a new chapter._

 _Love you guys._

 _Please let me know what you think!_

 _-M_


	4. Used To

_**Chapter 3**_

* * *

 **Used To**

 _I used to never feel like I do now_

 _I used to walk on air_

 _I used to care_

 _I had no fear of falling_

 _I used to never feel like I do now_

* * *

I scrunch my nose up as I observe the surrounding forest from the safety of the car.

"God, can you imagine living here?" I observe to Mars.

He snorts, taking a sip of his iced coffee. "You have to have the right kind of mindset, I suppose." From his voice, I can tell he shares my distaste for this small town.

"Yeah, the crazy kind of mindset."

We're on our first shift guarding Emily. After talking to them yesterday, Mars had decided we would begin today. After a few days we'd start rotating shifts, once we got more comfortable with the area and with Emily's schedule. But for now, both of us would be in the car, keeping an eye out.

"You talk to your brother?" Mars asks me after awhile.

I can feel myself stilling, staring at the pages of my book but not reading the words.

" _No_."

Mars puts his hands up innocently. "Hey, just making conversation."

"Well, don't," I respond shortly.

"Remy-"

"I said _don't_."

* * *

It's around 11AM now, and it seems like there is always one or more of those guys at the house. There's a few I don't recognize, but by the lack of screams and their similar features to Sam, I assume they're welcome there.

I startle when there is a knock on the passenger window. I roll it down, and Mars and I both look expectantly at the man standing there, who just stares at us for a moment.

"Emily wanted to see if you guys needed anything," Paul says. It's the first I'd seen him since yesterday, and I realize I must not have noticed he was one of the guys currently in the house. Hmmm. I must not have been paying attention, because I sure as hell would have noticed him.

I briefly wonder why Emily didn't come out herself, but then I realize that she's probably trying to stay inside, away from a murderer.

"No," I respond neutrally, if not blankly.

"Thank you," Mars adds politely, and I try to hold in my eye roll.

Paul's eyes are intent on my face, studying me, but I just stare back stoically, belying my inner feelings.

"Can't you guys come inside or something? Do you have to stay out here the whole time?" Paul asks, a bit of frustration leaking out of his voice.

"Not really," I answer his first question. We _could_ come inside, but honestly, I don't want to. And it probably _is_ safer to stay out here in the car, but not completely necessary.

"For now we should stay out here. But eventually, yes," Mars elaborates on my answer, and I look over to glare at him.

I look back to Paul sharply. "We don't want to impose. Our job isn't to socialize," I speak through gritted teeth.

The frustration I heard in Paul's voice bleeds onto his face. "Yeah? And what exactly is your job?"

"None of your goddamn business," I snap out without thinking.

"Remy!" Mars shouts at me.

I ignore him as Paul just scowls at me for a moment before walking quickly back to the house. I can see the door slam shut.

"You can't talk to people like that in this line of business unless they're a suspect," Mars lectures me.

I just fold my arms, muttering a quick sorry.

"Listen, I know you have issues, but at least fake being nice from now on, okay? You'll get a better reaction from people that way, and your job will be easier. We don't know how long we'll be stuck here, and we're probably going to be spending quite a bit of time with these people, so you have to have a friendly rapport with them, okay? At least until we get Kendrick."

"Got it," I respond.

I can't help my personality. I don't connect with people, I don't connect with their feelings or emotions. Hell, I don't even connect with my own. I don't _understand_ them.

The only person I ever connected with was my brother, and he's... well, I don't even want to think about him right now.

"I have to pee," I mumble after a long silence, regretting that extra large iced mocha.

Mars sighs. "Go and knock on the door. That's usually what I do, if the people are nice enough. Otherwise you pee in the bushes. But Emily seems nice enough."

I quickly open the door, slamming it shut behind me with more force than necessary.

When one of the boys, Seth, answers the door, I force a polite smile on my face, remembering Mars's words.

His too bright expression pisses me off, though.

"Can I use the bathroom, please?" I ask, biting my cheek to keep the smile on my face.

"Sure thing! Come on in!" Seth beams, opening the door wider and making a sweeping motion with his arm.

I force myself to beam back at him, but I know my expression doesn't match his.

He guides me through the house, closer to the voices, and attempts conversation.

"So, how are you liking La Push Remy? It is Remy, right?" He adds uncertainly.

I don't bother answering the last question. He knows my name is Remy, so that unnecessary question doesn't warrant an answer in my opinion.

"It's small," I respond, the smile on my face making my cheeks hurt.

Seth lets out a laugh. "That it is! But everyone knows everyone here, so it's nice."

I snort. _Nice._ Sounds like hell to me.

Seth's eyebrows draw together at the sound, but he doesn't question me.

 _Be nice_ , I remind myself.

I'm thinking of something to say as we walk, but it takes too long for me to come up with something by the time we get to the kitchen.

The voices quiet down, and everyone in the room looks at me.

"I just need to pee, if you don't mind," I announce bluntly, feeling my face twitch from the smile on my face. Does it look like a grimace?

"Oh," Emily stutters, surprised, and I kick myself. _Be nice._ "Um, go ahead! You can come in here anytime, no need to knock." She looks at Sam, then back at me with an easy smile. "We kind of have an open door policy here."

I can't help but frown. "That's probably not the best idea right now," I respond vaguely, aware of the eyes in the room that are trained specifically on me.

Especially Paul's.

"Oh," Emily breathes, realization dawning on her face, then worry. She twists her ring around her finger. "Right. That's right."

I see a few of the guys look at each other in confusion, some opening their mouths, probably to question what I mean, but I speak before they can.

"So I'm just gonna-" I gesture down the hall, walking to the bathroom before anyone can respond.

* * *

When I exit the bathroom, I almost knock someone over.

I look down and see a tiny human and take a large step back. "Jesus Christ."

"Hi," the little boy says, his unusually large eyes staring at me.

I'm not good with kids at all, and this one looks to be no older than four.

I don't respond, just stare back at him. One of his arms is behind his back, being held at the crook of his elbow by the other one.

"Who are you?" He asks. He doesn't have that stilted speech that little kids usually do, and it unnerves me.

"Who are you?" I ask in return. Emily and Sam don't have any kids. _Documented, at least_ , I think wryly.

"Jay," he says, letting go of his arm to let it swing by his side.

"Hm," I murmur, staring at him with wary eyes.

"Hm," He repeats after me, twisting his face to match my expression.

I frown at him. "Stop that."

"Stop that," He copies.

"Listen, kid," I start, pointing a finger at him and trying to sound stern, but he copies me word for word, expression the exact same as I imagine mine to be.

"Listen, kid."

I can feel my eye twitch.

"You better-"

"Jay!" I hear yelled from the hallway.

A man I don't recognize walks towards us with Paul by his side.

"Does this thing belong to you?" I ask the mystery man.

"Thing?" Paul scoffs.

My control snaps. "What is it with you people and copying me?"

The other man stares at me with wide eyes. "He's a kid _,"_ he states incredulously.

I cross my arms. "I was never that immature when I was a kid."

Paul scowls at me. "He's _three,_ Remy."

"It's annoying," I defend myself. Then kick myself. _Be nice, be nice, be nice, be nice._

"Who are you, exactly?" The unidentified man asks me, his voice irritated. Hmm. Must be the father.

"Remy," I say vaguely.

He rolls his eyes at me. "Yeah, I got that. What are you doing here?"

Paul smirks, crossing his arms. "Didn't you hear? It's _confidential."_

I glare at him for real this time, and he drops his smirk. "I'm going to leave, now, because I'm supposed to be nice."

I look at the little kid with the large eyes who's still staring at me, not seeming to be offended by me at all.

 _Be nice,_ I remind myself. What would a nice person say to another one? "It was nice to meet you," I mumble uncertainly to the kid.

"It was nice to meet you," he parrots back at me.

I can't help but snort and give him a little grin before I walk down the hallway, through the house, and out the front door.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Hmm. What do you guys think of Remy? She's definitely a new character for me._

 _Thank you guys for the reviews. Let me know what you think!_

 _-M_


	5. Remy

Sorry, this is only an Author's Note.

I hope this doesn't come off as rude or defensive, I'm just passionate. I'm _very_ passionate about my stories and my characters.

I guess I just want you all to understand where I'm coming from and what my view of this character is.

I don't normally respond to reviews, because I feel like people's opinions on someone's writing should be said without argument, because everyone interprets a piece of writing in different ways.

But I read one review in particular that encouraged me to write this.

I feel like Remy is being kind of misunderstood.

She's definitely a hard character to understand, she has many many layers, that will later be delved into. She's a complicated character who's constantly going through changes while at the same time still dealing with things from her past that have yet to be revealed.

I would also like to say that this is her first case ever that is not being solved behind a desk. EVER. It's her learning curve, and she will learn how to interact with people through this. She is only 22, which is young for her profession, but because of her relationship with Mars, she gets to "intern" with him, or I guess another word is shadow him. (It has been approved by the higher ups, since she is such a valuable asset)

I'm positive most FBI agents on their first case messed the fuck up. Hell, agents on their 20th case mess the fuck up, too.

Remy's "mess up" is her lack of etiquette in social interactions, which she will soon try to fix. Remy is brilliant, and being that smart (for her) means she lacks social cues.

Honestly, she has High Functioning Autism (similar to Asperger's). I'm only revealing this now because of some of the reviews. I'm also not revealing it as an excuse.

But later on in the story it will be revealed she has HFA, at the right time. It's not like some spoiler I'm revealing right now. She keeps it private, because it hasn't affected her in any way that she cares about. She just wants to do her job. She will learn, however, she can't do her job unless she changes how she talks to people.

The people she interacts with on a daily basis in La Push will ultimately change her.

So, that's all. I just wanted you guys to maybe understand her a bit better and not hate her. That's all I wanted to say, really.

Sorry it's not a new chapter.

Oh, and to the anonymous reviewer who kind of encouraged me to write this: Jay likes her. Never says or does anything to dispute that. She just doesn't **respond** the way someone normally would. That doesn't mean the kid doesn't like her.


End file.
